Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 72

Seveneves

I finished Neal Stephenson’s latest, Seveneves, earlier this week during my commute. It certainly passed the time, immersing me in a world other than the traffic-filled one about me.

Seveneves is lengthy. If you read Stephenson you know what your are in for: highly detailed descriptions of anything and everything. Stephenson doesn’t just answer the question, he shows his work. I like that. I learn things every time I read one of his novels. It isn’t for everyone, though. People who dislike hard sci-fi, who read only to see what happens to the characters, will probably find Seveneves a slog. I do like hard sci-fi. I don’t write it, primarily because I can’t. I do admire those with the science background and aptitude to create plausible futures extrapolated from existing technology. (My science fiction is essentially fantasy with spaceships. The science might as well be magic. But you do get to see what happens to the characters, so there’s that.)

The truth is, however, that I found Seveneves to be one of Stephenson’s lesser novels. The first two-thirds is engrossing, detailing the steps involved in the survival of the human race after the destruction of the moon. The last third, taking place millennia later, was written well enough, but felt comparatively slight after the previous bit. I’d rather have gotten more details of the intervening generations. And I found his genetically-driven personality types somewhat implausible. He explained the concepts well enough (this is Stephenson, after all) but I couldn’t quite buy it, nor the limited extent of interbreeding. But it was still entertaining.

The ending, now. Well, Stephenson is part of the Stephen King school of endings — Unsatisfactory U. In a blog post, Stephenson stated that the “only part that gave me any trouble was calibrating an ending that would leave the reader satisfied that the story had concluded while leaving the impression of an open-ended world.” He succeeded in the latter. Not so sure about the former.

However, if you liked Snowcrash, Cryptonomicon, Anathem, Reamde et al, I’m comfortable recommending Seveneves. Of course, you could always wait for the movie.

The Black Dog’s Bite

Winston Churchill battled against attacks of the ‘black dog.’ To what extent this has been exaggerated by historians, biographers, and journalists is beyond the scope of my remarks here. The point is, despite bouts of depression, Mr. Churchill still produced an astonishing amount of written work. (Seriously, take a look at the sheer volume and variety of his prose. It is…humbling.)

Emulating Churchill’s work ethic suggests itself right now. The drizzly leaden skies have settled in over the Pacific Northwest. Various events and matters have, from my vantage point, shifted negatively. Shit, as per its wont, happens. I am aware of the vagaries of chance and the disinterest of the world in my doings and general welfare. Nothing personal is at work here. Still, when the black dog bites, it feels as if the Universe is flipping me the double bird and chuckling malevolently. Glen Cook, in one of his Garrett books wrote something along the lines of Garrett’s personal deity being the men’s’ room attendant in Valhalla, more inclined to make sure Garrett is getting pissed on than succoured. Represent, Mr. Cook, represent.

The point is, that I, like Mr. Churchill, need to soldier on despite my mood. I have books to write. The words don’t care if I’m feeling chipper or not, and neither should I.

 

Whining mode terminated – Initiate productive cycle –

 

 

Appendix N, Past Mid-Way

I’m about two-thirds of the way through my haphazardly completed reviews of Appendix N authors. Andre Norton is in the batter’s box. I’ve not read much of her output, so I’m taking in a few of her Witch World novels before writing up my assessment. But this seems a good time to look back on what I’ve covered so far.

I’m comfortable in saying that I can understand why each of the authors made the list. I can either point to a specific instance in a novel (an item, monster, concept, etc.) that filtered into the rules of D&D or I can see how the tenor or flavor of the writing influenced the style of play Gary Gygax was attempting to encourage and the archetypes he was attempting to emulate through the character classes.

Most of the tales are adventure stories, sitting in varying positions along the pulp-to-literary stylistic spectrum. Importantly, most were entertaining. I can see the influence of a few of these writers in my own output (for better or worse, depending on how you perceive my work.) These are deep-seated influences. I’ve been reading this stuff for a long time. I’ve only rarely had to hunt up a book or two in order to familiarize myself with an Appendix N notable. Most of the authors have had works sitting on my shelves for years.

Now, if someone were to ask for three authors one must read from the first two-thirds of the list in order to get a handle on what D&D is all about, I’d suggest (in alphabetical order) Poul Anderson, Fritz Leiber, and Michael Moorcock. This is not intended to slight any of the others (in fact, most of the others are, in my opinion, better writers than Moorcock) but to single these writers out as having the greatest influence on the game. Of course the final third will include some heavyweights. Might Jack Vance knock one of these off the podium?* You’ll have to wait.

* What about Tolkien, you ask? J.R.R. Tolkien’s influence on D&D is a matter of some controversy. I’m not sure I want to weigh in on that one. Not yet anyway.

Orycon 38 on the Horizon

Orycon beckons once again. The Portland science-fiction convention has asked me back as a panelist for the 2016 con, the 38th.

Looks like I’ll be given a reading. I wonder what I should read. Something from my next novel, perhaps? An older short story? Any suggestions?

I see I’m scheduled for an autograph session. If you find yourself at Orycon this year, drop by and say hello at Autograph Alley. I’ll be the one looking bemused and lonely behind a stack of books.

Seriously, if you are interested in meeting me at the convention, here’s my schedule for the weekend. I hope to see you there.

 

Autograph Session 2 Autograph Area (LL1) Sat Nov 19 1:00pm – 2:00pm   Cait Spivey, Jeffrey Cook, Ken Lizzi

 

Underpinnings of World Building Salon A (LL1) Sat Nov 19 2:00pm – 3:00pmJennifer Brozek, John Ark, Ken Lizzi, Mark Ezell, Vannessa McClelland

 

Ken Lizzi Reading Hawthorne (2) Sat Nov 19 3:30pm – 4:00pm Ken Lizzi

 

Why Fantasy Matters Salon C (LL1) Sun Nov 20 12:00pm – 1:00pm Ken Lizzi, Lindsay Schopfer, Rhiannon Louve, Shawna Reppert, Shoshana Glick

Books on CD

Move to the new house complete, I now enjoy a thirty-five plus minute drive to work, usually more on the way home. This leaves me with some time to pass while in traffic. I’m sure there are many options. But I did not hesitate. Once the move was scheduled, I hit the library for books on compact disc.

This commute gives me at least an hour a day of reading time. Or, at least, being read to time. Others in traffic around me are frustrated, impatient, even angry. Me, I don’t even mind failing to make the yellow light. It’s an extra minute of story.

I’ve finished Chris Kyle’s autobiography, “American Sniper.” I’d already seen the movie. It was interesting seeing what bits and pieces the screen writers pulled out of the book for the screenplay, what changes they made, and what was sheer invention.

I’m two discs into “Seveneves,” Neil Stephenson’s latest. As usual, it is gripping and brilliantly written. I do wonder if he’ll manage to stick the landing. While I take a backseat to no one in appreciation of his writing, he does have a touch of Stephen King-itis: the endings of his books can come across as perfunctory, tacked-on, unsatisfactory. I wonder if this is in part due to the length of his books. Given the time we invest as readers, perhaps our expectations are raised, or our involvement in the characters is such that we feel somehow owed more payoff, maybe an epilogue with a synopsis of each surviving major character’s post-story existence.

In any case, I intend to use the time for more than listening to the radio. I suppose I ought to get back into Spanish language studies. Quisas. I’ve got plenty of time.

Settling In

I’ve been in the new house about three weeks now. The majority of the unpacking is complete. It is even conceivable a car could be parked in the garage soon. But that doesn’t mean I’m nearly finished. Oh, no. The torrent of chores may have dwindled to a stream, but the flow continues.

Of growing urgency is the need to buy a lawnmower. The grass inches ever taller. I’ve been hitting stores over the last couple of days, searching for a grass cutter. But I want a reel mower, not a power mower. I don’t want to deal with engines and gasoline. The lawn isn’t that big. But autumn nears and even those stores that do stock reel mowers have cleared away the inventory. Back to Amazon, I guess. Some assembly required, indeed.

I bought a caulking gun. And caulk. This means, I suppose, impending caulking. My television died in its sleep. So, I had to buy another one. You guessed it, Amazon. ETA: any day now. Various items of furniture remain on the to-be-purchased list. One piece at a time, I suppose, except for dining room chairs and bar stools. Buying those piecemeal makes little sense.

Hear that sound? That’s my wallet screaming.

Grout sealed. Check. Minor job done. But fences, now there’s an undertaking. And getting a concrete slab poured out back. And…well, it just goes on.

It’s like writing a book, in a sense. The task consists of a continually evolving sequence of chores. Plot, character motivation, distinctive characterization, narrative pace, planting information, evocative description. Reaching a goal — say establishing an important plot point — requires achieving a certain number of subgoals, like ensuring a character would be likely to make a certain statement, meaning prior demonstration of a certain personality, earlier utterance of similar statements, etc. And then something unexpected demands another series of actions. Then reaching the primary goal reveals another series of tasks yet to complete. It goes on and on.

Except, it doesn’t. Eventually, you finish writing the book. Editing and proofreading are complete, and the book is off the printer. You’re done. But with a house, it never ends. Never. Regular maintenance requires maintaining. Regularly. New chores pop up. Re-design and remodeling will occur, whether you want it or not, especially when one’s spouse has a background in architecture and design.

So, settling in, yes. Settled? Never.

Boise

Another wedding, another road trip. This time, Boise, Idaho and another sibling getting hitched.

So, Boise. What to write about Boise? First, let me get something off my chest. Come on, Boise, put in some grocery stores. Seriously. And some convenience stores, not attached to gas stations, in locations that are — convenient.

Boise is brown. Tan, ecru, burnt umber, buff. Brown. Nice enough I suppose. Maybe an acquired taste, or I simply notice the somewhat monochromatic scenery because I’ve spent most of my life living the Pacific Northwest and my expectation is attuned to green.

I’ve discovered some nice places. For example, in the Boise suburb of Meridian there is a terrific park with a world class playground for the kids. And I can envision passing afternoons at Payette Brewing, down by the river in Boise, sitting at the picnic tables in the beer garden or playing one of the lawn games, pint in hand. I’m familiar with the “Rustler,” a solid IPA. I sampled a couple taproom only IPAs and a barleywine. All decent to good. 10 Barrel Brewing is located downtown. It’s an offshoot of the headquarters brewery, but I’m pleased to see it maintains the architectural design aesthetic of the original Bend location. And the lettuce wraps were excellent.

Unfortunately I can only eat and drink so much. So, there must be more. The zoo was modest, but entertaining. And the price matched, especially thanks to the reciprocity granted by my Portland zoo membership card.

The state capitol is right downtown. That’s fairly cool. Downtown itself is lively on a weekend (especially a Bronco’s game weekend) though small.

I’m here for a few more days, so I hope to discover more to see and do. I didn’t bring my bicycle, nor attire for white water rafting (neither of which activities are suited to the aptitudes and proclivities of a toddler anyway) so outdoor recreation will have to wait until the next visit.

In the meantime, I have a wedding to dress for.

The Labor Day Post

Let me tell you tales of labor of high adventure. Or, maybe not. I mean, you’ve got your Labors of Hercules. But let’s face it, those weren’t so much lunch pail jobs as they were quests. And Hercules was hardly a blue collar fellow.

There is Sam. Samwise Gamgee, that is. He provides, probably, the quintessential exemplar of the working class hero. A gardener on a heroic quest. A participant at least. The only of the Fellowship with a job. The rest of the Fellowship consisted of aristocrats or demigods. Good work, if you can get it.

Garrett, P.I. is self-employed. In fact, he’s employed as little as possible, preferring to loaf rather than labor. And now that he’s got people on his payroll, he is management, not labor. The boss.

Neither Conan, Fafhrd, or the Gray Mouser ever worked a steady job if they could help it. Why would we want them to? Those of us bringing home a paycheck who also read heroic fiction do so to forget about the job for awhile. We don’t want to read about Conan’s day at the office, or the Gray Mouser’s panel van breaking down along his route. We want to read about them breaking heads in a tavern brawl.

Look, there is nobility in work, in doing your job well and taking care of your family financially. But it isn’t the stuff of legend. I understand there is a market for business novels in Japan. Good for them, but I can’t say it sparks my interest. No, when I get home from work I’d rather open a book to swashbuckling adventure, not to salary negotiation and the copier malfunctioning again.

So happy Labor Day, all. Have a cold one, toss a dog on the grill, and read a tale of high adventure.

Books: The Un-Boxening

I’ve moved into a new house. A new house seemingly inhabited by boxes. Boxes that shift and rearrange themselves into a continuously moving maze. I started tackling one section of that maze, attempting to clear away the savage boxes to make room for civilized living. Specifically, the room that is to be my library, the sanctum from which I will type such drivel as this you are currently reading.

As you can see from the picture above that I herded the boxes into a large, centrally located heap. Those are my books, sequestered within those cardboard confines. I’ve missed them, most having been in storage for several months. Let my books be free!

Slicing open one box after another it is clear this will be no easy task.

I’ve freed some, establishing temporary homes for a few of my books upon their old shelves.

But clearly, this struggle will drag on, the boxes putting up a stubborn defense until the moment of my inevitable victory. Though I expect a hold-out, guerilla resistance: I don’t yet have enough shelf space.

The Web Log is on the Move

The Web Log is spending the day packing. Along with — probably — most evenings for the rest of the week, right up until the night before the moving truck arrives. Next week’s web log post will be written in my library in the new house — assuming I’m not too busy unpacking. I’m considering the inappropriate and pretentious appellation “Meduseld” for the new digs. Snazzy, huh?

Now, back to packing.